The Wizarding Games
by let.the.cards.fall
Summary: For 12 years, the wizarding towns in England have been forced to take part in an annual Wizarding Games, where a boy and a girl from each city is taken to a secret arena where they fight to the death on national television. Now when Septima Rosier is thrown into the mess with someone the Capital adores, every move she makes could mean life or death. Can she survive the pressure?


Author's note: First off, thanks for even reading this. Most skip over this. I want to start off by saying this is a Harry Potter/Hunger Games crossover. Also, **I do not own anything Harry Potter or Hunger Games.** Thanks for reading.

All the best,

L.T.C.F

I walked through the empty, ghost-like streets of Godric's Hollow, nervous and afraid of what was in store for me. Shimmers of light bounced off the windows, their shades pulled back. I eventually found myself pacing the perimeter of the town square. _I'm not ready for this,_ I thought to myself. _I won't be able to volunteer for her._

I finally willed myself to walk back home. I find my little sister, Baytrice, sitting at the table, slowly stirring her cereal.

"Come on," I said, "Eat up. Today is the big day." At that, she shuddered.

This Wizarding Games was be the first time Baytrice entered her name in. Not only was she scared, I was scared for her. Scared I wouldn't be brave enough to volunteer for her.

Only a few hours later, the bells in the square rang, summoning wizards and witches between the ages of 12 and 18 to the Reaping.

Kids slowly flooded the streets. There were lots of young children, which was why Godric's Hollow was a primary target for Gracenys Hawklight.

Gracenys Riddle was Voldemort's successor. Voldemort passed away, after searching all his life for Harry Potter who went into hiding. In the end, he never found him. Gracenys was so angry at the wizard and witches who helped hide Harry, he started the Wizarding Games. From each major city, he took one male and one female tribute between the ages of 12 and 18 into an arena to fight to the death until one remained. The lone survivor would be brought back home with nothing more that his or her wand.

I grabbed my wand, handed my sister her wand, and lead her out of the house. Our mother, Araminta, hugged us and said goodbye.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to me.

"I'm sorry too," I whispered back as I walked out the door.

As I walked, I saw that the town square was packed with kids. The square was divided up by age group, each age having their own pen. The 12 year olds were fidgeting with their clothes, trying not to look as nervous as they were. The 18 year olds looked confident, having a lot of practice. The people my age, 16, had mixed expressions. A few were really nervous. Some had finally done the math and realized the odds of being picked were about 1 to 100. Some were relaxed, others were zoned out.

I held Baytrice's hand as we walked into the lines that lead us into the pens. As I stepped up to the front of the line to get my finger pricked, I saw him. Thomas Cavendish. He was the talk of the town. Everyone in the square was sneaking glances at him. He was the richest person in town and lived in a mansion. He glanced over at me and gave me that trademark, heart wrenching smile and waved. I immediately looked away, my cheeks flushed bright, hot red. When I looked back, he had disappeared into the crowd.

"Welcome, welcome, to the 15 Wizarding Games! I will be your honorary chooser. My name is Rewara. Today we honor the search for Harry Potter and his family. Sadly he was never found. So in penance for his disappearance and the people who hid him, we have a Wizarding Games to remind us of the Dark Lord's power over us citizens. As usual, ladies first."

Rewara looked nervous. She was fidgeting with her short dress as she walked over to the girl's bowl. My stomach twisted more and more after every step she took.

She dug around in the bowl for some time, looking for the right one. I wanted to look away but I couldn't take my eyes off her.

She cleared her throat as she clearly said, "Septima Rosier."

She said my name. She said my name.

It felt like a quaffle to the stomach. All the air was knocked out of me for a good, silent ten seconds. The 16 year olds made a wide path for me, clearing the way like I had some sort of contagious disease and they didn't want to catch it.

I slowly staggered through the pen and into the aisle. I could feel the stares on my back from everyone in the square.

"Come! Come on up Septima!" Rewara said sweetly. It was odd to hear my name said by her. I thought that wasn't going to happen today.

I looked over the crowd, and my eyes found my sister clinging to my mother in the back of the crowd. I saw tears streaming down both of their faces. A single tear trickled down mine as I climbed the stairs that lead me to the stage. Rewara offered me a hand up.

"Alright! We have our girl, now we need a boy!"

Rewara strutted over to the bowl. Doing exactly what she did for me, she called out a name loud and clear.

"Kreacher Armando," she said.

A scrawny, pale in the face boy walked out of the 14 year old pen, beads of sweat dripping down his face. _This is the guy I have to work with?_ I thought in outrage, _God save me now._

And just at that moment a fairly recognizable voice cried out as if in agony, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

As he said it, Thomas Letchford strutted out of the 16 year old pen as if he'd been training for this moment for his entire life. His eyes showed agony but his body language showed that he was faking it. I sighed. Anyone but _that_ snob, thank you very much. Although his looks made you feel like you were dreaming, he was an awful actor.

"Thomas!" Rewara, who raised her eyebrows, said in surprise, "You volunteered?"

"I thought it was my job to protect that young child," he said solemnly. Everyone bought it. I stared at them in surprise. _You buy that crap? He won't last a minute in the arena._

I saw the kid who was originally picked run over to his family who held him in an embrace so tightly their arms began to look like bars protecting him.

"We now have our two tributes for Godric's Hollow. Shake hands!" Rewara said excitedly.

I looked over at Thomas. He was smirking at me. He thought less of me because I was a girl. I shook his hand firmly, to show that I was in this too. The tension gravitated between us.

"Okay," she said as she lead us into the town hall, "Be sure to watch Septima and Thomas in the 12 annual Wizarding Games!"

At that moment, I felt two Wizarding Policemen grabbed my wand from my back pocket.

"Hey!" I yelped, "I need that!"

"Not until the games, you don't," the man said coldly.

 _Great. Just what I need right now,_ I thought. With my wand gone and partner a snob, I knew it was going to be an interesting games.

 **Sorry this chapter is short! More coming very soon!**


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